


Night's Not Over

by Meatball42



Series: Rare Pairs [20]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alcohol brings people together, Awkward Castiel, Dancing, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-18
Updated: 2014-08-18
Packaged: 2018-02-13 15:54:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,196
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2156442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Meatball42/pseuds/Meatball42
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He didn’t know why she was talking to him. He didn’t know why he was talking to her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Night's Not Over

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Jayjaybe](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jayjaybe/gifts).



He didn’t know why she was talking to him. He didn’t know why he was talking to her. When he’d tried to take a shortcut across part of the dance floor, both hands full of beer, and crashed blindly into her, he’d been mortified and immediately apologetic. He’d rushed back to the bar to ask for a towel of some sort, and when he’d returned, the woman-- a foot shorter than Castiel, but with a sharpness about her that warned she was twice as dangerous-- gave him a curious look, then smiled.

Then, she’d taken off her mesh-fabric shirt. And pulled him to the edge of the dance floor and proceeded to begin a conversation with him, while wiping the remnants of his beer off her skin.

Gabriel was dancing behind the woman-- Meg, she’d introduced herself, with a grin like a whip and a hand sliding into his-- and flashing thumbs-up at Castiel every so often. The younger sibling managed not to grimace every time this occurred, so Meg would not think the expression was directed at her. He would hate to offend her more than he already had.

Meg was very nice. She’d come here alone, was looking for some fun (he apologized again for interrupting her evening), and unfortunately did not have anyone to dance with. She’d told him all of this, shouting into his ear so he could hear her over the music. She stood close to him despite the sweaty heat of the club; one of her hands held him close on his lower back, while the other played with his hair.

She was very friendly, and her touch was soft, and he tried very hard not to look at the way her creamy skin glowed through the black lace of her bra.

Finally, she rolled her eyes, and he realized she must have tired of him, as most people did eventually. She leaned in close again and shouted, “You’re hopeless!”

He turned his head to agree, and was met by her mouth.

[*]

Castiel gasped for air as he was dragged forcibly out of the club, wrist screaming from the steel grip around it, lips smarting from biting kisses. They burst into the night air, warm from most perspectives, but refreshing after the steamy heat they’d just escaped. Castiel found himself dragged not toward the parking lot, but to the narrow alley around the back of the club. His attempt at a protest was shut down quickly as he was shoved back against a brick wall and his breath was stolen by more deep kisses.

Meg wasted no time in undoing his button-down and caressing his chest, grinning as she pressed her fingers down firmly. She broke away, daredevil eyes glinting in the light of the single lamppost at the end of the alley, then began sucking long bruises from his ear to his nipples.

Mind emptied of all thought, Castiel found himself moaning to the dark sky above and burying his hands in the temptress’s thick black hair. After gasping to shut himself up- _oh God, what if someone walks by, what if someone sees us_ \- he forced his brain to reboot. Being a caring and equitable lover, it wasn’t Castiel’s practice to allow a partner to do all the work, no matter how good she was with her mouth, and he tugged gently on Meg’s hair to inform her he’d like to switch places.

Then she bit his nipple, twisting and vicious, and any attempts at chivalry evaporated.

Growling, Castiel ripped Meg away from him with one hand on her shoulder and the other still in her hair. He spun them efficiently to slam her against the brickwork and an instant later was forcing her mouth open to his. Any fears of his being too harsh faded when she moaned into the kiss and dragged her nails down his back, hitching a leg up around his hip.

A moment later and she was undoing his belt and jeans one-handed. Before he even realized, she had unzipped her short skirt and let it fall to the ground, pulling him closer with both hands.

Castiel’s hands fumbled with her hips, excitement making his palms sweat. But her arms went around his neck and she jumped in the air, and he had no choice but to catch her weight around his hips; not that it was a hardship. He groaned as he felt the heat of her through his boxers, which were quickly shoved down his hips to tangle around his feet with his jeans.

Her pupils were blown wide, making it look as though her eyes were nearly black. She grinned at him, showing all her teeth, then flexed her thighs. Her head fell back when Castiel’s cock slid between her legs, slipping in the wetness that seeped out of her. Castiel stared at her neck, wanting to bite it with an urge stronger than any of a sexual nature he’d ever felt. But he froze when he realized--

“I don’t have protection.”

“I’m on the pill, I’m clean,” Meg told him, voice strained. She squeezed with her legs again, causing more of that teasing, slick friction. “You clean? Good. Put it in.”

“I- I’m clean,” he assured her, breath coming at unplanned intervals. He pushed her harder against the wall for leverage as he reached under one of her legs to guide himself to her entrance. He could feel her abdomen against his as she breathed deeply. “Is this alright?”

“Oh my God stop talking,” she moaned. Her head hit the brickwork and it looked painful, but as Castiel slid inside her she only sounded like she was enjoying herself. “Fuck, Clarence, God, fuck me, _yes!”_

Castiel had to take a deep breath and thrust into her twice before he found the air to say, “My name is Castiel.”

“No off- _uh,_ oh God, offence, but I don’t give a shit about your name right now.”

Castiel supposed that was fair, and decided to give biting her neck a try.

She actually screamed, and everything about her tightened around him, and he pushed her harder against the wall, again and again and her nails tore into his back through the shirt and their skin slid together and her breath was hot in his mouth, and his forehead hit the brick wall but he couldn’t even tell because every inch of him was filled with heat and pleasure.

He stumbled, and she managed to get herself to the ground gracefully. It was good, great, because Castiel’s body wasn’t exactly cooperating. “Thank you,” he mumbled, and, wait, was that what to say, when--

“Oh, tonight’s not over yet, Clarence,” Meg murmured, and then she was biting his neck just as hard as he’d bitten hers, and he couldn’t feel anything but _good._

“My name,” he managed, “is Castiel.”

She released his neck, licking her lips. “I don’t think I’m going to care about your name at all until at least tomorrow morning.” She stepped into her skirt and zipped it back on, as he watched, entranced. Her liquid eyes flashed at him again as she took his hand. “Your place or mine?”

 


End file.
